When it Rained
by DragonMisstress325
Summary: Quatre is a well known demon prince who has rejected many suitors.However, now that he is being forced into a courtship with the heir to the Barton clan, what will he do? Will love blossom or whither away?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Gundam Wing in any way, shape, or form. That makes me cry. TT

**A/N:** Okie dokie! This would be my second fanfic on here (My first being Outside Heaven's Door). I'm hopefully going to be focused to write this as well, because I actually got people who liked OHD. So….here we go.

**Chapter 1**

Quatre watched the landscape roll by through the glass pane of his carriage window. They had docked the ship about an hour ago and soon would be arriving at the Barton mansion. This was turning out to be a most melancholic day. In fact it had been a rather unhappy month. His parents had decided to spring on him that he needed a mate if he was to inherit the Winner fortune.

The Winner's were a quite influential demon clan and Quatre, being the only boy to born, was the heir. When he had come of age for mating, his parents had gone out to seek the perfect female for him. To their dismay, though, their little blonde, blue eyed boy swung the other way. They had learned this the hard way when Quatre had publicly humiliated one princess who had been too clingy. Quaterina had then gone "guy shopping", which is to say she scanned over all the young, noble men and their pasts and traits. She had tried a few with her little boy, but he had turned down every single one. He began a list of rejections that would make a hermit proud of. Finally, as a last result, she had turned towards an old friend in the west. Well, he wasn't really a friend but more of an acquaintance. She had met Dekim Barton a long time ago, but they hadn't talked in ages. Upon sending him a request to talk, she had received an answering message informing that he had passed away. This saddened her, but the second part of the letter interested her. The person who had answered was apparently Dekim's adopted son, Trowa Barton. This intrigued her. She appealed to the Barton's small council, through another letter, to have Trowa and her son meet.

Needless to say, the council was more than pleased to do so. Trowa hadn't chosen a mate since Lord Dekim had died and they were getting quite annoyed with his waiting. They set up a place and date for the two to meet and confirmed it with Quaterina. However, when she broke the news to Quatre, he was less than appreciative.

_**Flashback**_

_"What?!" Quatre's eyes widened considerably as he stared, dumbfounded, at his mother, "You can't honestly expect me to do this!" The blonde, in defiance, crossed his arms over his chest._

_"Quatre, dear, please try to be open-"_

_"I don't __**want**__ to be open minded! I don't even __**know **__him!"_

_"Well he sounds like a nice boy. Just give it a shot."_

_"I'm sick of being set up with men I don't know. They're all chauvinistic pigs. All they want is children. No time to care or nurture. There's absolutely __**no way **__I'm going through with this." Quaterina, by now, had had it._

_"You __**will **__meet this boy and you__** will**__ try, __**do you understand**__?" She said, a deadly tone to her voice. Quatre, seeing his mother's not-so-common anger, cringed and nodded quietly. Lady Quaterina was not easily angered, preferring to be mellow, but when she did get angry you were wise not to disagree. His mother righted herself and left the room with a turn of her heel. Quatre just curled up on his bed and stared out his window. He had a bad feeling about this. _

_**End Flashback**_

So here he was, riding towards the mansion of another unknown suitor. They all were the same by now; nameless faces and horrible attitudes. They were either overly confident in their "wooing abilities", not confident enough, or completely perverted. He'd be lying if he didn't say that a few had groped him on several occasions. This Trowa Barton would probably be just as bad. No doubt, this would be the trip from hell.

Meanwhile, at the Barton mansion, Trowa was also staring out through a glass pane out towards the world outside. The mansion was in a very remote area because Dekim never liked to be around many people. There was a large forest surrounding it in the front and vast fields, which held crops and a sizeable herd of horses, behind it. There was a dirt road leading away from the mansion. That would be the road that would bring changes.

Not but a month ago, he was given some serious news. The council had apparently made arrangements to bring a possible mate for him. The boy was the heir to the Winner clan. The Winner clan was well known, wealthy, and not to mention just as or even more influential as his own clan. Well, what he called his clan. Dekim Barton had taken him in when he was quite young. The man had named him after his dead son and made him his heir. Everything had gone fine. That is until Dekim had fallen ill recently. Now he was gone and it was up to Trowa to perform his "duties". At least that's what the council said.

_**Flash back**_

_"This is ridiculous," Trowa stated with a glare firmly in place._

_"You have to understand that with Lord Dekim gone you are the next heir," said Marhon, the head councilman, "You must be able to perform your duties as the heir to the Barton name."_

_"My duties!? That's preposterous; all of this is!," Trowa composed himself before continuing, " I will not go off and mate with someone I have no clue about."_

_"You know who the boy is."_

_"That may be so, but I don't __**know**__ him-"_

_"Exactly, that is why you will have until the next full moon, practically a month, to get to know him."_

_"Didn't I already tell you I'd have nothing to do with it! I will pick a mate on my own terms."_

_"We've given you options throughout your entire life to pick a mate, and this is your last chance. We, as the council, have the power to remove you because you are not a direct descendant of Dekim Barton. You must get the boy to mate with you before he is taken back home on the full moon, or else we will strip you of your title." Marhon's face was stern and his eyes glittered with anger. Trowa wasn't sure if they could do what they said, but he wasn't going to take chances. Lord Dekim had been kind to him and it would upset him to see Trowa give up so easily. _

_"Very well, you can have it your way." Trowa strode, irritated, out of the council room._

_**End Flashback**_

Suddenly a carriage came into view from the window. Trowa sighed in defeat as he slowly got up and began his trudge towards the main doors to meet his fate. He not only felt bad for himself, but also for the poor boy that had to be dragged into this as well.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Gundam Wing, sadly.

**A/N:** Ok, so I was able to write chapter one. Sorry about it kinda being short, but I just couldn't think of anything else. Well, here's chapter two. Enjoy!

**Chapter 2**

Quatre was jolted from his daydreams when the carriage came to a hault. Craning his neck, he could see a gate. Great, they were here. He wondered if it would be impolite to get out and run back down the road in the other direction. Who was he kidding! His mother would probably hunt him down and **force** him to mate with the guy. Well, maybe not force him to **mate**, but it'd be pretty damn close. He heard the gates groan as they opened and composed himself for what was to come.

On the other side of the gates, Trowa stood on the steps of the mansion's main entrance, watching the gates open. Once fully open, a carriage pulled up, two grey, dapple horses came through. The council men immediately rushed down the steps. As the door opened, Marhon was the first to greet the new guest. For god's sake, the boy wasn't even out the door and they were flocking him. Now he really felt bad for the boy. He began to descend the stairs, but stopped when the council men moved away and the figure stepped out from behind the door.

Standing in front of him had to be an angel. The boy was thin, but not to the point he was anorexic. He also had pure blonde hair that shone beautifully in the light and blue eyes as crystalline as the ocean. They boy's skin was also a healthy pale, like ivory. He had to admit, it was a better punishment than he thought. Trowa honestly wondered how the blonde hadn't gotten a mate yet.

Quatre was a little stunned at how handsome the boy in front of him was. He looked to be about the same age as himself. He had light, chestnut hair and his bangs fell over his one eye. He looked to be muscular, but not excessively so and his eyes were a light shade of green. Sure he's nice looking, Quatre thought, but there's still personality to check. He'd be formal around the council, but how he acted when they were by themselves would be a completely different story. At least that's how it went ninety-nine percent of the time. He politely excused himself from the council and went to greet his host as the brunette descended the stairs leading towards two large, oak doors. The brunette, much to Quatre's disbelief and slight unease, took his hand and gently placed his lips on the hand. Oh my god, the blond though, how cliché is that? None the less, Quatre smiled and greeted him.

"Thank you for being so kind as to host me, Lord Barton." Those sharp, green eyes looked at him and for some reason he thought he saw a flash of…uncertainty?

"It's a pleasure to be your host. Feel free to make yourself at home," the boy gestured towards the stairs and led Quatre away from outside and the council men before saying quietly, "And please call me Trowa. Formalities are so stifling." Quatre looked taken aback to some extent. He had expected the b-Trowa- to be more, well, for lack of a better word, stuffy. Yet, he had to keep his guard up. After all, as his mother said, men are after one thing. Yes, it wasn't always true, but after getting groped at _**so many**_socials, you'd start believing it, too. However, it was only fair to play the game as well, wasn't it?

"Why, of course," he said making sure to flash one of his winning smiles, "As long as you call me Quatre. It'd only be fair, wouldn't it?"

"Naturally." A man of few words I see, Quatre contemplated. After several hallways and one or two stair cases, Trowa had led him to a pair of wooden doors. They were quite ornate, with such detail that made the vines carved into them almost seem real.

"This will be your room. I will send a servant to bring your luggage and call for you when dinner is prepared. Until then, feel free to roam anywhere you would like. My home is yours." Trowa bowed politely and walked away.

"'My home is yours'", Quatre mimicked to himself, "Yeah, like _**that's**_ not implying anything." He opened the door to find quite a stunning room.

The bed was a four poster, canopy with red satin sheets and there was a large maroon wardrobe in the corner. Everything, in fact, had a warm color to it, whether it was orange, yellow, red, or shades in between. Maybe not his favorite color scheme, but it would do. Hearing a knock at the door, he opened it to find two servants carrying his luggage. His mother had said he packed too much, but by the way she talked, he'd be here awhile. Quatre was not going anywhere without being prepared for anything. He dismissed the servants and dragged his luggage inside to unpack.

He opened one of the luggage bags to find more than several pairs of loose-fitting, almost-too-feminine clothing. Ok, so maybe he shouldn't have agreed to let his mom send her "surprise" bag with him. She obviously wanted him to wear these, but in all honesty…he wasn't sure he wanted to. He absolutely was _**not**_ going to wear anything that would make it look like he was welcoming the nearest man with open arms. No way in _**hell**_. Quatre closed the "mother bag" and began unpacking his other bags. He found that the wardrobe was bigger, if that was possible, than it looked. He was able to fit two of his three bags of clothing in it without worry. The rest of his luggage was non clothing items, such as books and other items to entertain himself with. With all his packing done, Quatre sat down to contemplate.

Trowa Barton. Although his greeting was exceptionally polite, he had seemed stiff; almost as if he was about as thrilled as Quatre was. If that information was true, it would indeed prove interesting. That would mean that he might be able to get out of this with little or no damage done, especially if his mother found out the other boy was opposed. She wanted someone to mate with him who would love him, not neglect him. She'd definitely bring him home…but he needed to slow down. He had no idea if the bo-Trowa opposed to it at all. For all Quatre knew, he could just be one quiet individual and completely agree with the arrangement. Damn, he hated his life…and that council. Yep, he hated them, too.

They seemed overly sweet, almost sickeningly so, when he arrived here. The swarmed him as soon as he got out with "it's and honor", "welcome to Barton Estate", and "We are at your service" about a million times a minute. As far as he was concerned, they were just a bunch of perverted old men. Hopefully he didn't have to meet with them on a regular basis during this trip.

Quatre stood up from the bed and walked to the balcony. All this worrying was getting to him. He decided that a stroll through the gardens he could see from his balcony would calm him down. After all, Trowa _**had**_ said that he was supposed to make himself at home.

After a few wrong turns, Quatre had found himself at an outside entrance to the gardens. Unlike his courtyard gardens back home, the flowers and plants weren't tropical. The Barton clan's territory was mainly in the north and the estate, now his current residence, was right dead center. Quatre was only glad that it was early spring. It wasn't warm like mid spring, but it wasn't cold like the dead of winter. He was hoping he'd be able to stay to see the flowers bloom. He'd like to see what northern foliage was like; to see if the flowers differed all that much from what his were like back home. A cool wind blew lightly and Quatre pulled the coat he had brought, _**just in case**_, closer to keep him warm.

Quatre kept walking along the path until he heard something out of the ordinary. It wasn't a bird. No, birds were much shriller and had odd repetitive noises. It almost sounded like…music? The blonde turned his head to look around. Where was it coming from? He soon spotted a little dirt path between two bushes. He looked around to make sure no one saw and then slipped down the path. What he noticed was that although the path was hidden by underbrush, you could still see the estate. In fact, the path looked like it led right back to the large building. Suddenly it occurred to Quatre what that sound was. It was a flute!

Oh god, he thought, I must seem like such an idiot. What kind of retard follows musical flute sounds? Still, he was curious to know who out of a dull bunch of men and a too quiet suitor would play the flute? Quatre stopped abruptly when he heard the music stop. Shit! He continued quickly along the path only to come to another garden. What?

"Godammit!" he hissed quietly. Seeing no other option Quatre went inside the estate through this garden's entrance. As quickly as possible he slipped through hallways and past servants until he was able to find his bedroom door again. Quatre pushed it open, went in, and closed it. He was a little tired from roaming and the trip to this place and he desperately wanted a power nap. He stopped, looked at the bed then back to the door. Bed. Door. Bed. Door.

Quatre swiftly went over to the door and locked it. There was no way that anyone was going to disturb him. They wouldn't if they wanted a pleasant blonde at the dinner table.

A/N: Alrighty!yawns It's like one in the morning and I'm unusually tired now…oh well. I hope you people's enjoyed! If not, I'd like to hear why 'cause I'm always open for constructive criticism. yawn Well, g'night folks!


End file.
